OK, so I was challenged to watch the whole interview by a person who didn't think that it was supposed to be Wisconsin they were at, since "if you listen to what they're saying, the guys says 'on the weekend, people are bused in from Wisconsin.'"
I watched the entire clip, and my opinion is still the same. To begin with, the context of the beginning monologue and subsequent interview is clearly the protests in Madison, Wisconsin. O'Reilly starts the segment by talking about the protests in Madison, which then segues into the interview with Mike Tobin, who himself is in Madison.
During the monlogue, they're showing clips of angry protesters, with only the caption "union protests" on them; and during the interview, they're showing the same clips interspliced with video coverage that's actually from Madison. I also noticed that during the introduction, O'Reilly mentions that Tobin "has experienced pro-union anger first-hand," which I think is used to further imply the connection between the people in clips and what's actually taking place in Madison.
Now keeping in mind that the context of this entire segment is clearly the pro-union protests in Madison, as far as I can see, they makes absolutely no attempt to identify where this other footage with the palm trees in the background is from, or to differentiate it from the actual footage from Madison.
The effect is to make them appear current and directly related to what's happening in Madison, but there's no date, no location, and absolutely no context whatsoever. Of course, they don't flat out say, "These video clips are all from protests in Madison," but they're presenting them in such a way that it's implied. I think that's dishonest and unprofessional for a new organization even though it's not outright lying.
Sure, they're vague about it all, talking about how the union organizers are busing people in from out of town, but it seems to me the implication here is clear—that what they're talking about (i.e., the protests in Madison) and what's being shown (i.e., angry protesters) is directly related.
If those were clips of people who were bused to Wisconsin from another state, or sympathy protesters in another state, they should have labelled it as such. But they didn't, and I think it's obvious why—to make the pro-union side look more extreme than they really are in order to match Tobin's 'personal experience.'
Now Tobin may or may not have experienced harassment, but we're not shown any of that footage. Instead, all we see is what appears to be a bunch of unruly protesters in a completely different and unnamed city. That's not fair and balanced, in my book; it's biased and deceptive.
Monday, March 7, 2011
fair and balanced, my ass!
I don't know what Fox is, but I can tell you what it's not, a real news organization. Fox is the American equivalent of Pravda. It's the mouthpiece of the conservative right. It's propaganda. I'll give you just one recent example. On February 28, a reporter from Fox News was filling in Bill O'Reilly on what's going on in Madison, Wisconsin, and in the process, they were showing clips that the average person would logically assume was from the Madison rally/protest:
The clips show a lot of angry and violent people, basically implying that the pro-union protesters in Madison were just running amok. But if you look closely in the background, you can see palm tree. Guess what? They don't have palm trees in Madison. That clip wasn't from the Madison rally. It's just another attempt by Fox to spin the truth. I know this is old news by now, but it still pisses me off, especially when I hear people defending Fox's innocent use of file footage and saying things like, "I've never had a union job, and I don't think we need unions to be treated fairly in the workplace."
Right, like Fox just happened to pick a clip of what appears to be a bunch of rowdy union protesters without any underlying motivation whatsoever, like, say, trying to make the protesters look bad. Mhm, I'm sure it was just a coincidence. And you might not have ever been in a union, but many of the things we now enjoy in the workplace are directly due in part to union struggles: the 8 hour day, the 40 hour work week, child labour laws, sick pay, vacation pay, safety regulations, etc. Take away the unions and people's right to collectively bargain, and there will be little to stop those gains from being eroded away by capital.
What many people don't seem to understand is that the main purpose of things like unions is to protect workers, who usually have little means to protect themselves. Our economic system is designed to protect private property rights, and those who possess the means of production (i.e., property) have the most legal protection and leverage in the marketplace. (In fact, at the beginning, only white, male property owners were allowed to vote due to property requirements imposed by most states. It wasn't until the Jacksonian Era that these were removed.)
Workers' power, on the other hand, lies in their numbers, and without something like unions to help effectively organize workers, they have little leverage in the marketplace, being resigned to selling their labour for whatever the employer is willing to pay and under whatever conditions the employer sets. Unions simply allow workers to collectively bargain with the employer, with one voice, instead of individually, when they're at their weakest.
That said, I'm not a big fan of all organized labour, and I think that many unions have become just as corrupt and greedy as any board of directors. But that's no excuse to try and take away their legally protected rights and bargaining power, or to try and insinuate they're all just a bunch of rowdy extortionists, as Fox seems to have been doing since the pro-union and pro-worker protests against Gov. Walker and his plan to plans to strip state workers of their collective bargaining rights started.
The clips show a lot of angry and violent people, basically implying that the pro-union protesters in Madison were just running amok. But if you look closely in the background, you can see palm tree. Guess what? They don't have palm trees in Madison. That clip wasn't from the Madison rally. It's just another attempt by Fox to spin the truth. I know this is old news by now, but it still pisses me off, especially when I hear people defending Fox's innocent use of file footage and saying things like, "I've never had a union job, and I don't think we need unions to be treated fairly in the workplace."
Right, like Fox just happened to pick a clip of what appears to be a bunch of rowdy union protesters without any underlying motivation whatsoever, like, say, trying to make the protesters look bad. Mhm, I'm sure it was just a coincidence. And you might not have ever been in a union, but many of the things we now enjoy in the workplace are directly due in part to union struggles: the 8 hour day, the 40 hour work week, child labour laws, sick pay, vacation pay, safety regulations, etc. Take away the unions and people's right to collectively bargain, and there will be little to stop those gains from being eroded away by capital.
What many people don't seem to understand is that the main purpose of things like unions is to protect workers, who usually have little means to protect themselves. Our economic system is designed to protect private property rights, and those who possess the means of production (i.e., property) have the most legal protection and leverage in the marketplace. (In fact, at the beginning, only white, male property owners were allowed to vote due to property requirements imposed by most states. It wasn't until the Jacksonian Era that these were removed.)
Workers' power, on the other hand, lies in their numbers, and without something like unions to help effectively organize workers, they have little leverage in the marketplace, being resigned to selling their labour for whatever the employer is willing to pay and under whatever conditions the employer sets. Unions simply allow workers to collectively bargain with the employer, with one voice, instead of individually, when they're at their weakest.
That said, I'm not a big fan of all organized labour, and I think that many unions have become just as corrupt and greedy as any board of directors. But that's no excuse to try and take away their legally protected rights and bargaining power, or to try and insinuate they're all just a bunch of rowdy extortionists, as Fox seems to have been doing since the pro-union and pro-worker protests against Gov. Walker and his plan to plans to strip state workers of their collective bargaining rights started.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
when i think about the d, it's bittersweet
I was born and raised in Detroit. I lived downtown for the first thirteen years of my life, up until my family was forced to move when they closed down our apartment building. I went to Burton International (what's now the Burton Theatre) from 1st to 8th grade, and probably would've attended Cass Tech if we hadn't moved to Warren. But even after moving, I continued to hang out and work there before finally leaving Michigan in 2004. My last job was downtown, right across the street from where our old building used to be, in fact. So when I think about 'Detroit,' that's the Detroit I usually think about.
From my point of view, there are good and bad things about Detroit, and I still think about it every now and then. Sometimes fondly, but often with sadness. Let's be honest, as far as cities go, Detroit is in pretty bad shape and has been for decades. Sure, New Orleans isn't doing that great, but they got hit by a hurricane. Detroit's 'natural disaster' was decades of mismanagement, corruption, urban sprawl, and building its economic base on a single industry, motor vehicle and parts manufacturing. Crime and poverty seem to be a perpetual problem, as well as drug abuse. And when I was growing up, I was often exposed to some of the more unpleasant aspects of Detroit, events and memories that have helped give me a fairly negative view of the city over all.
When people talk about how great the city is, I still think about those deserted city streets in the 80s, before the two stadiums were built; my aunt's house near Trumbull, a neighborhood full of drugs and poverty; the endless sea of abandoned houses that were often torched on Devil's Night. I know all of Detroit isn't like that, and things are changing, but it's still hard to forget.
Maybe it's just me, but I even found the atmosphere oppressing. I never noticed it until I left, but when I finally did, it just felt so bleak in comparison. I visited New York, then travelled across the country to eventually settle in Oregon. After experiencing more of the US, I was finally able to compare Detroit to other cities like New York, Denver, Salt Lake City, Las Vegas, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Portland, Seattle, etc., and while all of them had their good and bad points, none of them had the same level of decay or the same oppressive atmosphere as Detroit. Even the people seemed different, happier, friendlier. I'd always heard about how mean people in New York were, but I felt more comfortable there as a stranger than I ever did in my own hometown. And going out west, I felt even more at ease.
I've often wonder why this is, and I sometimes think that it's because these cities are livelier and thriving. I've also noticed there doesn't seem to be the same level of animosity between these cities and their surrounding suburbs like there is in Detroit. There's a lot of hatred in Detroit, and from what I've heard, it's been that way for a long time, especially after the riots in '67. The racism and bigotry of that time has been left to fester, and I don't think Detroit has been able to come together as a real community because of it. I think that's changing, but Detroit still has a long way to go before it's finally healed from those old wounds.
Truth be told, I find myself agreeing with critics of Detroit most of the time because I, too, think it's a bit of a shithole. I think it's your experiences of a place that ultimately colour your perception of it, and growing up in the heart of downtown, with its desolate streets, and around some of its seedier parts (my aunt's neighborhood near Trumbull immediately comes to mind), I can't help picturing it any other way. For me, Detroit was a big and lonely place that was slowly dying right before my very eyes.
Nevertheless, things weren't all bad (and probably not as bad as I'm making them sound). I still like to remember the good times I had there, especially all the awesome people I knew (and still know). I make it a point to visit my friends and family at least once a year, and deep down, I'm proud to be from Detroit, especially because it has such a badass reputation. Detroit is a tough place. It's made putting up with hardships in other cities a lot easier, that's for sure. When people in Portland complain about the weather or how terrible they think Portland is, it just makes me laugh and appreciate how much a place like this has to offer compared to Detroit (except when it comes to sports teams).
And while I have some pretty harsh opinions about Detroit, I don't hate the city, and I really hope that Detroiters can turn it around. It's an uphill battle, for sure, but I think they can do if they put their hearts into it. I know it won't be easy, though. Due to a combination of things like outsourcing, foreign competition, and little else for the economy to fall back on, there's not as many good paying jobs as there used to be; and with no real public transportation system to speak of, just trying to find a decent job can be a struggle in and of itself. There also needs to be a lot of outside investment, which is hard to get when you don't have much to offer right up front. People just need to be willing to take a chance on Detroit again.
Still, Detroit has a lot to offer, I can't deny that. It's home to great people, wonderful architecture, incredible music, and an amazingly rich history. Downtown is starting to come back to life, and I've heard they're doing wonders with the riverfront.
Now that I'm thinking about it, I'm starting to feel a little nostalgic, so maybe it wasn't such a bad place after all. I still remember catching my first fish at Belle Isle (a tiny rainbow trout). I still buy Vernors whenever I'm sick (it cures everything). I still sport my Tigers hat, and I find myself rooting for the Lions even though they're arguably the worst team in football. I even like watching Detroit 1-8-7 just so that I can see some familiar places. I guess when it comes down to it, I have a bit of a love/hate relationship with Detroit. It'll always be that old flame I never quite got over.
From my point of view, there are good and bad things about Detroit, and I still think about it every now and then. Sometimes fondly, but often with sadness. Let's be honest, as far as cities go, Detroit is in pretty bad shape and has been for decades. Sure, New Orleans isn't doing that great, but they got hit by a hurricane. Detroit's 'natural disaster' was decades of mismanagement, corruption, urban sprawl, and building its economic base on a single industry, motor vehicle and parts manufacturing. Crime and poverty seem to be a perpetual problem, as well as drug abuse. And when I was growing up, I was often exposed to some of the more unpleasant aspects of Detroit, events and memories that have helped give me a fairly negative view of the city over all.
When people talk about how great the city is, I still think about those deserted city streets in the 80s, before the two stadiums were built; my aunt's house near Trumbull, a neighborhood full of drugs and poverty; the endless sea of abandoned houses that were often torched on Devil's Night. I know all of Detroit isn't like that, and things are changing, but it's still hard to forget.
Maybe it's just me, but I even found the atmosphere oppressing. I never noticed it until I left, but when I finally did, it just felt so bleak in comparison. I visited New York, then travelled across the country to eventually settle in Oregon. After experiencing more of the US, I was finally able to compare Detroit to other cities like New York, Denver, Salt Lake City, Las Vegas, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Portland, Seattle, etc., and while all of them had their good and bad points, none of them had the same level of decay or the same oppressive atmosphere as Detroit. Even the people seemed different, happier, friendlier. I'd always heard about how mean people in New York were, but I felt more comfortable there as a stranger than I ever did in my own hometown. And going out west, I felt even more at ease.
I've often wonder why this is, and I sometimes think that it's because these cities are livelier and thriving. I've also noticed there doesn't seem to be the same level of animosity between these cities and their surrounding suburbs like there is in Detroit. There's a lot of hatred in Detroit, and from what I've heard, it's been that way for a long time, especially after the riots in '67. The racism and bigotry of that time has been left to fester, and I don't think Detroit has been able to come together as a real community because of it. I think that's changing, but Detroit still has a long way to go before it's finally healed from those old wounds.
Truth be told, I find myself agreeing with critics of Detroit most of the time because I, too, think it's a bit of a shithole. I think it's your experiences of a place that ultimately colour your perception of it, and growing up in the heart of downtown, with its desolate streets, and around some of its seedier parts (my aunt's neighborhood near Trumbull immediately comes to mind), I can't help picturing it any other way. For me, Detroit was a big and lonely place that was slowly dying right before my very eyes.
Nevertheless, things weren't all bad (and probably not as bad as I'm making them sound). I still like to remember the good times I had there, especially all the awesome people I knew (and still know). I make it a point to visit my friends and family at least once a year, and deep down, I'm proud to be from Detroit, especially because it has such a badass reputation. Detroit is a tough place. It's made putting up with hardships in other cities a lot easier, that's for sure. When people in Portland complain about the weather or how terrible they think Portland is, it just makes me laugh and appreciate how much a place like this has to offer compared to Detroit (except when it comes to sports teams).
And while I have some pretty harsh opinions about Detroit, I don't hate the city, and I really hope that Detroiters can turn it around. It's an uphill battle, for sure, but I think they can do if they put their hearts into it. I know it won't be easy, though. Due to a combination of things like outsourcing, foreign competition, and little else for the economy to fall back on, there's not as many good paying jobs as there used to be; and with no real public transportation system to speak of, just trying to find a decent job can be a struggle in and of itself. There also needs to be a lot of outside investment, which is hard to get when you don't have much to offer right up front. People just need to be willing to take a chance on Detroit again.
Still, Detroit has a lot to offer, I can't deny that. It's home to great people, wonderful architecture, incredible music, and an amazingly rich history. Downtown is starting to come back to life, and I've heard they're doing wonders with the riverfront.
Now that I'm thinking about it, I'm starting to feel a little nostalgic, so maybe it wasn't such a bad place after all. I still remember catching my first fish at Belle Isle (a tiny rainbow trout). I still buy Vernors whenever I'm sick (it cures everything). I still sport my Tigers hat, and I find myself rooting for the Lions even though they're arguably the worst team in football. I even like watching Detroit 1-8-7 just so that I can see some familiar places. I guess when it comes down to it, I have a bit of a love/hate relationship with Detroit. It'll always be that old flame I never quite got over.
Saturday, February 26, 2011
christian platonism
Reading dialogues like Gorgias, it's easy to see why Plato's philosophy became so influential among many early Christian thinkers and writers. Especially with its strong focus on the importance of virtue, defense of suffering martyrdom in the cause of truth, and concluding myth that all souls are judged after death.
Personally, I think Christianity would be much better off just sticking with Plato and the Jefferson Bible, and getting rid of all that Old Testament, grumpy God business, not to mention most of the writings of Paul. (Thomas Jefferson went so far as to deem him "the first corrupter of the doctrines of Jesus.")
I mean, in Plato, you've got all the best things about Christian ethics and theology, just without all the homophobia and gender inequality (especially, e.g., the Symposium and the Republic). It's hard for me to imagine a perfectly loving God condemning anyone's sexuality or their expression thereof as an abomination (Lev 20:13), or excluding women from positions of authority in the Church (1 Cor. 14:34-35).
While I don't believe in a creator God, nor, as a consequence, that Jesus is the son of God/God in the flesh, I do have a soft spot for Jesus as a spiritual teacher, and I think some of the things he's reported as saying in the New Testament are pretty cool. I especially like, "Let any one of you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone" (John 8:7), the Sermon on the Mount and his many teachings on forgiveness.
I've also found a growing appreciation for Christianity in general; although I do tend to lean more towards the heterodox, which is precisely why I think Platonic rationality and Socratic dialectic would make a much better ethical and theological foundation than rigid, scriptural dogmatism. In fact, from what I've read, I bet Socrates and Jesus would've been best mates.
Personally, I think Christianity would be much better off just sticking with Plato and the Jefferson Bible, and getting rid of all that Old Testament, grumpy God business, not to mention most of the writings of Paul. (Thomas Jefferson went so far as to deem him "the first corrupter of the doctrines of Jesus.")
I mean, in Plato, you've got all the best things about Christian ethics and theology, just without all the homophobia and gender inequality (especially, e.g., the Symposium and the Republic). It's hard for me to imagine a perfectly loving God condemning anyone's sexuality or their expression thereof as an abomination (Lev 20:13), or excluding women from positions of authority in the Church (1 Cor. 14:34-35).
While I don't believe in a creator God, nor, as a consequence, that Jesus is the son of God/God in the flesh, I do have a soft spot for Jesus as a spiritual teacher, and I think some of the things he's reported as saying in the New Testament are pretty cool. I especially like, "Let any one of you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone" (John 8:7), the Sermon on the Mount and his many teachings on forgiveness.
I've also found a growing appreciation for Christianity in general; although I do tend to lean more towards the heterodox, which is precisely why I think Platonic rationality and Socratic dialectic would make a much better ethical and theological foundation than rigid, scriptural dogmatism. In fact, from what I've read, I bet Socrates and Jesus would've been best mates.
Friday, February 25, 2011
a crisis of modernity?
I find it ironic people seem to be so worried about 'Islamic' groups taking power in the Middle East, but not about 'Christian' groups here. I have to wonder, is the Muslim Brotherhood really all that different from groups like the Fellowship (a.k.a., the Family)? Why should the Muslim Brotherhood be excluded from Egyptian politics? Or, conversely, why shouldn't groups like the Fellowship be excluded from American politics? If our rhetoric about freedom of religion and speech is to remain consistent, it needs to recognize the right of self-determination for all.
In political theory, self-determination is defined as "the right of a nation or people to determine its own form of government without influence from outside." In this case, we say that we support the people of Egypt in their fight for democracy against a dictator we actively supported with billions in military aid, and at the same time, we're speaking out against the threat of Islamic political organizations like the Muslim Brotherhood and trying to exclude them from taking part in the political process in Egypt. To be consistent with our rhetoric about freedom of religion and speech, we need to also recognize the right of self-determination for all, not just for those willing to support us.
If we're serious about promoting democracy, then the people of Egypt need to be able to freely determine their own government without the threat of external interference for it to be a truly democratic movement. They must be the ones to decide what their country is going to look like and who's going to be in charge of it. So I think it's rather hypocritical for the US to say that it supports the people of Egypt in their fight for democracy, but at the same time, tries to exclude Islamic political organizations like the Muslim Brotherhood from taking part in the political process, especially when we have Christian political organizations active here.
I think this just goes to show how hollow all our rhetoric about democracy really is. We want whoever will best promote US interests in power (which in this case is access to the Suez Canal and support for Israel), not necessarily who the people choose. That's one of the main reasons we supported an oppressive dictator like Mubarak for so long. We're worried about groups like the Muslim Brotherhood precisely because they're not very friendly towards Israel and are apparently willing to use the Suez Canal against us and them (most likely by disrupting trade and the distribution of Middle Eastern oil, as well as cutting off an important naval route).
Of course, none of this means that I support the Muslim Brotherhood or everything they stand for; I'm just trying to point out what I see to be the contradiction between our rhetoric and our actions when it comes to promoting democracy abroad. Basically, we're either for democracy or imperialism in regard to foreign policy; and while our rhetoric is very much in favour of the former, our actions seem to be clearly leaning towards the latter. We've been meddling in the affairs of Middle Eastern states since WWII, and our fear of losing what little hegemony we have left in the region is palpable. It's no wonder the Obama administration's statements were so conflicting during the beginning of the Egyptian revolution.
In political theory, self-determination is defined as "the right of a nation or people to determine its own form of government without influence from outside." In this case, we say that we support the people of Egypt in their fight for democracy against a dictator we actively supported with billions in military aid, and at the same time, we're speaking out against the threat of Islamic political organizations like the Muslim Brotherhood and trying to exclude them from taking part in the political process in Egypt. To be consistent with our rhetoric about freedom of religion and speech, we need to also recognize the right of self-determination for all, not just for those willing to support us.
If we're serious about promoting democracy, then the people of Egypt need to be able to freely determine their own government without the threat of external interference for it to be a truly democratic movement. They must be the ones to decide what their country is going to look like and who's going to be in charge of it. So I think it's rather hypocritical for the US to say that it supports the people of Egypt in their fight for democracy, but at the same time, tries to exclude Islamic political organizations like the Muslim Brotherhood from taking part in the political process, especially when we have Christian political organizations active here.
I think this just goes to show how hollow all our rhetoric about democracy really is. We want whoever will best promote US interests in power (which in this case is access to the Suez Canal and support for Israel), not necessarily who the people choose. That's one of the main reasons we supported an oppressive dictator like Mubarak for so long. We're worried about groups like the Muslim Brotherhood precisely because they're not very friendly towards Israel and are apparently willing to use the Suez Canal against us and them (most likely by disrupting trade and the distribution of Middle Eastern oil, as well as cutting off an important naval route).
Of course, none of this means that I support the Muslim Brotherhood or everything they stand for; I'm just trying to point out what I see to be the contradiction between our rhetoric and our actions when it comes to promoting democracy abroad. Basically, we're either for democracy or imperialism in regard to foreign policy; and while our rhetoric is very much in favour of the former, our actions seem to be clearly leaning towards the latter. We've been meddling in the affairs of Middle Eastern states since WWII, and our fear of losing what little hegemony we have left in the region is palpable. It's no wonder the Obama administration's statements were so conflicting during the beginning of the Egyptian revolution.
Monday, January 31, 2011
just another parasite
I think Ayn Rand's use of Social Security and Medicare may very well prove by example that her conception of capitalistic self-interest is ultimately self-refuting. And by 'capitalistic self-interest' I mean the idealization in her moral philosophy of greed (self-interest) over altruism (common good), competition over cooperation, privatization over public ownership, etc. In other words, it seems to me that it was in her best self-interest to take advantage of the very altruistic ideals and services she decried as a "basic evil."
Of course, one may counter that she already paid into the system, so she was entitled to receive those benefits and it was in her best interest to do so, meaning she wasn't a hypocrite and was still being true to her Objectivist philosophy despite receiving benefits. That may be true; however, I think it shows a weakness in her philosophy because (1) one can argue that most recipients of Social Security and Medicare pay into the system and are entitled to receive those benefits, and (2) even if she hadn't paid into the system via taxes, she probably still didn't make enough money as a writer to pay for her own surgery and other medical bills without risking financial ruin and there's no guarantee she would've invested the additional income in such as way as to support all her medical and living expenses.
The first weakness I see here is that she was vehemently opposed the system itself, which she viewed as morally wrong, and essentially called the people who use it "parasites," looters" and moochers." Part of this is based on the assumption that the money is taken from the heroic producers and given to lazy dead-beats who should've simply worked harder and saved for things like cancer surgery themselves. But, instead of doing that herself, she applied for and received benefits under the justification that, like most people who receive them, she'd already paid into the system and was therefore entitled to these benefits.
To me, this undermines the idea that the majority of people who use and otherwise perpetuate the system are "parasites," "looters" and "moochers" because they too have paid into the system, with payments based on lifetime earnings (which, of course, are taxed). If she isn't a parasite for using the system, then most of the people who use it aren't either. This includes people like my mother, who worked hard her whole life until she ended up getting sick and became unable to work.
The second weakness has to do with her illness itself. Rand was big on personal responsibility and the idea that we're responsible for making good decisions, along with reaping the fruits of our own labour. However, Rand herself basically ignored all the evidence that smoking was harmful, and eventually developed lung cancer. It seems to me that, according to her own philosophy, she should've taken responsibility for her smoking and paid for her own medical needs from the money she earned and saved from her writing career. Instead, she signed up for Social Security because she felt entitled to it. By that reasoning, everyone who pays into Social Security is entitled to it, including people who get sick from their own risky behaviour.
This, I think, undermines much of her moral philosophy when it comes to its stress on individualism and personal responsibility. If a successful writer has trouble paying her medical bills and needs help, why shouldn't everyone else who's worked hard but is still unable to afford all the care they need get it? What's so morally wrong with a system that attempts to provide such a safety net? Is a system of taxation and redistribution really more morally reprehensible than a system which lets the sick, poor and elderly die due to lack of means? Charity only goes so far.
I don't have an issue with people who are critical of the government's management of the system (it can definitely be improved), or even those who take the position that taxes are stealing (for those who don't wish to pay them, I suppose they are; although, I don't see how a complex, modern civil society can function without taxes, especially considering how interconnected everything is, and most people I know pay them willing). But I do have an issue with a moral philosophy that more or less blames the victim for being a victim.
Despite all her rhetoric, when push came to shove, she needed the state's help via the very same system of taxation and redistribution she decried as a basic evil, and was as much of a "parasite," "looter" and "moocher" as she accused other users of the system to be. Why? Because, ironically enough, it was in her best self-interest; the so-called "welfare state" that she spent her literary career attacking saved her life and allowed her to live another eight years railing against it. Instead of the productive hero, she became just another "parasite," only one intent on killing the host.
Of course, one may counter that she already paid into the system, so she was entitled to receive those benefits and it was in her best interest to do so, meaning she wasn't a hypocrite and was still being true to her Objectivist philosophy despite receiving benefits. That may be true; however, I think it shows a weakness in her philosophy because (1) one can argue that most recipients of Social Security and Medicare pay into the system and are entitled to receive those benefits, and (2) even if she hadn't paid into the system via taxes, she probably still didn't make enough money as a writer to pay for her own surgery and other medical bills without risking financial ruin and there's no guarantee she would've invested the additional income in such as way as to support all her medical and living expenses.
The first weakness I see here is that she was vehemently opposed the system itself, which she viewed as morally wrong, and essentially called the people who use it "parasites," looters" and moochers." Part of this is based on the assumption that the money is taken from the heroic producers and given to lazy dead-beats who should've simply worked harder and saved for things like cancer surgery themselves. But, instead of doing that herself, she applied for and received benefits under the justification that, like most people who receive them, she'd already paid into the system and was therefore entitled to these benefits.
To me, this undermines the idea that the majority of people who use and otherwise perpetuate the system are "parasites," "looters" and "moochers" because they too have paid into the system, with payments based on lifetime earnings (which, of course, are taxed). If she isn't a parasite for using the system, then most of the people who use it aren't either. This includes people like my mother, who worked hard her whole life until she ended up getting sick and became unable to work.
The second weakness has to do with her illness itself. Rand was big on personal responsibility and the idea that we're responsible for making good decisions, along with reaping the fruits of our own labour. However, Rand herself basically ignored all the evidence that smoking was harmful, and eventually developed lung cancer. It seems to me that, according to her own philosophy, she should've taken responsibility for her smoking and paid for her own medical needs from the money she earned and saved from her writing career. Instead, she signed up for Social Security because she felt entitled to it. By that reasoning, everyone who pays into Social Security is entitled to it, including people who get sick from their own risky behaviour.
This, I think, undermines much of her moral philosophy when it comes to its stress on individualism and personal responsibility. If a successful writer has trouble paying her medical bills and needs help, why shouldn't everyone else who's worked hard but is still unable to afford all the care they need get it? What's so morally wrong with a system that attempts to provide such a safety net? Is a system of taxation and redistribution really more morally reprehensible than a system which lets the sick, poor and elderly die due to lack of means? Charity only goes so far.
I don't have an issue with people who are critical of the government's management of the system (it can definitely be improved), or even those who take the position that taxes are stealing (for those who don't wish to pay them, I suppose they are; although, I don't see how a complex, modern civil society can function without taxes, especially considering how interconnected everything is, and most people I know pay them willing). But I do have an issue with a moral philosophy that more or less blames the victim for being a victim.
Despite all her rhetoric, when push came to shove, she needed the state's help via the very same system of taxation and redistribution she decried as a basic evil, and was as much of a "parasite," "looter" and "moocher" as she accused other users of the system to be. Why? Because, ironically enough, it was in her best self-interest; the so-called "welfare state" that she spent her literary career attacking saved her life and allowed her to live another eight years railing against it. Instead of the productive hero, she became just another "parasite," only one intent on killing the host.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
coffee, dreams and ice cream sandwiches
I'm at yet another crossroads in my life. Everything has changed. I've lost my job. I've lost my direction in life. I've lost my confidence in myself. I have so many new choices to make, and I'm so afraid of making the wrong ones, that most days I just sit and stare at the computer screen, hoping, waiting. For what, I don't know—something, anything: a sign, a vision, a kick in the ass.
In some ways it's exciting. I'm free to choose a new path. A new job, perhaps. Or maybe an extended stay at monastery; it's been so long since I've done that. I could visit my friends and family back in Michigan. And there's always Santa Cruz. I still know people there. But then there are practical matters that have to be considered as well. Time sensitive things like taxes, doctor's appointments, other things that I can't quite bring myself to think about right now. Same old, same old, I guess.
I think I like to procrastinate, putting off decisions and stressful situations until the very last moment, when I'm finally forced to deal with them. I hate being forced to make decisions. I hate having time limits. Tick, tick, tick, BUZZ! I also don't handle stress very well. It gives me stomach problems. I can already feel the tightness. And I haven't been sleeping well, either. Maybe it's depression. Who knows?
Guess what I had for breakfast today: an ice cream sandwich, and it was delicious. That's been the best part of my day so far. It's not important. It doesn't have any particular significance. It was just nice. How I cherish the simplicity of 'nice.' The older I get, the harder it seems for me to simply enjoy something for what it is, to ignore the incessant chatter in my mind. "How are you going to pay your bills?" "What if the doctor says you need surgery?" "If you don't visit now, you may not get another chance for a long time." "That ice cream will go straight to your hips." It never shuts up.
All this time has given me nothing but time to think. Think, think, think. Thinking too much is bad for you, I've decided. I've single-handedly thought myself into a lonely despair. I think the world is conspiring against me, even my friends and family. I have proof, you know. It's right here, all in my head, swimming with caffeine.
I want another cup of coffee, but I know it'll just make me jittery. More than one is never good for me if I'm not doing something, like working or talking to someone. I'd really like to have a nice chat over a cup of coffee right now. I haven't done that in a long time, either. A nice chat over a bottle of red wine might be even better. But I don't feel like wine. I feel like coffee. I love the way it smells. Its warmth. The way it can be smooth and bitter at the same time. Tea is nice, I suppose, but it's not quite the same. Maybe it's too subtle for me to fully appreciate.
I appreciate a lot of things, though, especially people. I appreciate people who can actually put up with me (the real me that is) seeing as they're so rare. (I've been told I'm too negative and it's true.) I appreciate the random acts of kindness that people show towards others, like the guy who gave me a free lunch when he found out I lost my job. I feel bad I don't even know his name. I appreciate the beauty of full-moons and the hope they can inspire (but don't tell Annie that, I'll never hear the end of it).
Life isn't all bad. It seems that way to me sometimes, but I know it's not true. It's just complicated. It doesn't have to be, but we make it that way. It's a strange compulsion, making life more complicated that it has to be. I think we do this in the name of progress, whatever that means. It doesn't mean much to be at the moment. I'm more interested in happiness. I think we all are, but I think we're confused about what real happiness is.
Happiness. A simple word for a simple concept, and yet it constantly eludes me. I wonder why that is? Maybe it's like that one saying, "You can chase a butterfly all over the field and never catch it. But if you sit quietly in the grass it will come and sit on your shoulder." Maybe it eludes me because I chase after it like a fool. But if you never chase your dreams, you'll never catch them, right? Dreams. Reminds me of a song: "Dreams, in the night, they're falling like rain / Dreams, in the night, they drive me insane."
Then again, you don't want to catch a cold. Maybe dreams are the same. Maybe they're not something you want to catch. Dream a Little Dream was a pretty awful movie, after all. But I sure could use a rebellious Corey Feldman kicking my subconscious in the ass or a stoic Jason Robards to help put my messed up life back together for me. If only life could be like the movies.
In some ways it's exciting. I'm free to choose a new path. A new job, perhaps. Or maybe an extended stay at monastery; it's been so long since I've done that. I could visit my friends and family back in Michigan. And there's always Santa Cruz. I still know people there. But then there are practical matters that have to be considered as well. Time sensitive things like taxes, doctor's appointments, other things that I can't quite bring myself to think about right now. Same old, same old, I guess.
I think I like to procrastinate, putting off decisions and stressful situations until the very last moment, when I'm finally forced to deal with them. I hate being forced to make decisions. I hate having time limits. Tick, tick, tick, BUZZ! I also don't handle stress very well. It gives me stomach problems. I can already feel the tightness. And I haven't been sleeping well, either. Maybe it's depression. Who knows?
Guess what I had for breakfast today: an ice cream sandwich, and it was delicious. That's been the best part of my day so far. It's not important. It doesn't have any particular significance. It was just nice. How I cherish the simplicity of 'nice.' The older I get, the harder it seems for me to simply enjoy something for what it is, to ignore the incessant chatter in my mind. "How are you going to pay your bills?" "What if the doctor says you need surgery?" "If you don't visit now, you may not get another chance for a long time." "That ice cream will go straight to your hips." It never shuts up.
All this time has given me nothing but time to think. Think, think, think. Thinking too much is bad for you, I've decided. I've single-handedly thought myself into a lonely despair. I think the world is conspiring against me, even my friends and family. I have proof, you know. It's right here, all in my head, swimming with caffeine.
I want another cup of coffee, but I know it'll just make me jittery. More than one is never good for me if I'm not doing something, like working or talking to someone. I'd really like to have a nice chat over a cup of coffee right now. I haven't done that in a long time, either. A nice chat over a bottle of red wine might be even better. But I don't feel like wine. I feel like coffee. I love the way it smells. Its warmth. The way it can be smooth and bitter at the same time. Tea is nice, I suppose, but it's not quite the same. Maybe it's too subtle for me to fully appreciate.
I appreciate a lot of things, though, especially people. I appreciate people who can actually put up with me (the real me that is) seeing as they're so rare. (I've been told I'm too negative and it's true.) I appreciate the random acts of kindness that people show towards others, like the guy who gave me a free lunch when he found out I lost my job. I feel bad I don't even know his name. I appreciate the beauty of full-moons and the hope they can inspire (but don't tell Annie that, I'll never hear the end of it).
Life isn't all bad. It seems that way to me sometimes, but I know it's not true. It's just complicated. It doesn't have to be, but we make it that way. It's a strange compulsion, making life more complicated that it has to be. I think we do this in the name of progress, whatever that means. It doesn't mean much to be at the moment. I'm more interested in happiness. I think we all are, but I think we're confused about what real happiness is.
Happiness. A simple word for a simple concept, and yet it constantly eludes me. I wonder why that is? Maybe it's like that one saying, "You can chase a butterfly all over the field and never catch it. But if you sit quietly in the grass it will come and sit on your shoulder." Maybe it eludes me because I chase after it like a fool. But if you never chase your dreams, you'll never catch them, right? Dreams. Reminds me of a song: "Dreams, in the night, they're falling like rain / Dreams, in the night, they drive me insane."
Then again, you don't want to catch a cold. Maybe dreams are the same. Maybe they're not something you want to catch. Dream a Little Dream was a pretty awful movie, after all. But I sure could use a rebellious Corey Feldman kicking my subconscious in the ass or a stoic Jason Robards to help put my messed up life back together for me. If only life could be like the movies.
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